by L. B. Carter
Plan: pull back from them all over the next few months, embrace the role of Spectre, until she could haunt them no more.
Once Rena moved away, they’d forget; they’d move on. She’d move on; leave it all behind—leave them all behind, happier and safer and unburdened by her atrocious acts. All she had to do was shove bubbly Kayna, caring Liam, observant Stew, friendly Tilly, and hero Nor in her mental box, then squash any of those instincts, those subconscious urges, killer tendencies, those essentially psychotic episodes from harming anyone in the meantime.
The box was getting overcrowded, the lid not quite sealing, letting the undeniable truth about the latter part of her plan seep like smoke through her mind.
Her...instincts...had taken over twice now, at least in her memory. Given that her memory spanned the last half-year or so, those statistics were appalling—not that any number of near (or complete, if her nightmares were believable as the evidence indicated) murders was acceptable. Rena was some kind of uncontrollable sociopath.
The snap to her wrist did nothing to assuage the turmoil roiling like waves inside Rena. She rolled to her other hip, feeling itchy and uncomfortable, as if the coat of sand that had stuck to her salty skin hadn’t come off in the shower. Nausea rose.
Maybe this affliction was part of the PTSD. The same way seeing Nor’s blue eyes had triggered the memory that day on the pier. She’d been underwater, trapped, alone with JT. Just like with Dad. It kicked on her survival instinct. After all, she had survived that wreck. Her success could’ve been due to her actions, however disturbing they were, however much they had caused her father’s failure to survive. The saltwater might have triggered a flashback, as if it were a catalyst or a conductor which could jolt her body into all-consuming, life-or-death panic that blacked out her better judgment—or any, really. PTSD symptoms, They’d said, could be triggered by similarities with the accident.
That was more of a rational or at least medical description. Their prodding and questions in the hospital and at her therapy sessions weren’t unwarranted after all. All the more reason to move inland and stay far away from the beach to avoid being a risk to those around her.
Rena slapped a hand over her face, smearing the warm fluid that was steadily leaking from her eyes. The thought circles were frustrating. She huffed out a massive breath, half expecting the force of it to propel the fan above her. It didn’t spin, unlike her thoughts.
The reasons didn’t matter all that much. It happened. Multiple times. She needed to accept that Nor had been spot on: she was unique. She hoped so anyway, because if there was an epidemic of unstable, amnesiac, ocean-instigated murderers in this world, then no coastal vacationer or sea-faring resident was safe. So, it was settled.
Her band snapped to seal the plan as she repeated it to herself. Plan: separate from those who don’t deserve to be dragged under with her, permanently—namely, everyone. With that, her mental box shut and the images of her recent loved ones dissipated with intention and finality.
Rena gulped back a fresh wave of tears, trying to keep silent. This was right, this was the best plan she had, the only acceptable plan.
Rena let her knees slide out from her shirt and pulled up the light sheet, trying to relax against the aches in her body that attested to JT’s size and strength. They were reminders to stick to the plan that would protect her friends and family, and save herself from further sinking under self-hate. She squeezed her eyelids closed, forcing the saltwater out in rivulets.
Plan: be her own hero.
◆◆◆
The warm water welcomed her like a blanket, muting the cacophony of the surface instantly. Bubbles rose around her from the splash, tickling slightly as momentum from her dive brought her through murky waters to the seafloor.
Settling on the ripples raised a little cloud, hopefully adding an obscuring layer. Then she waited.
Just as she was thinking all was quiet, a distant plonk sounded to her right; someone else dropping into the turgid waters. Someone else alive. A much louder splash announced the entry of a much larger object smashing underwater, glugging and gurgling as it flooded and sank. Had the other person managed to avoid its impact?
She somersaulted and used her legs to push off from the bottom in that direction. After coasting a ways, she started a gentle undulation with her body, keeping arms streamlined by her sides, and her legs clamped together to propel her through the deepening water.
The floor dropped away, becoming murky as the sunlight failed to penetrate the depths, leaving lurking critters hidden. She followed the declining angle, the water began to chill her bare limbs. Just as her lungs began to tighten and complain, she spied her target.
Bubbles nearly obscured the dark form, but the occasional hand or leg shot out of the swirling eddies, grasping as though to clutch the very surface and pull the air to him. Alive and alone.
A bolt of adrenaline shot through her whole body, giving renewed energy to her efforts, thrusting her that last bit of distance between them. A gurgling wail reached her ears as she pulled up in front of her target, and she peered through the agitated waters finally spying his face.
His mouth stretched wide, his scream muffled by the water rapidly filling the void. Large bubbles burst out, momentarily blinding her as he shouted again, wasting all his oxygen. No good. She frowned as she watched the bubbles rise, her lungs lusting after them.
She grabbed for an arm, slipping twice, before using her nails around his forearm, and then pulled him up. She let go a few feet short, allowing him the last struggle to breach the surface, watching from below as his head broke through.
She sunk deeper, away from the turbulence caused by the storm raging above her quiet domain to avoid being seen. She gave him a few minutes to expel the water from his lungs and reclaim a chest-load of fresh air as he was tossed about by the wind’s waves, knowing he wouldn’t start to check what had pulled him up until he’d accomplished this first. Then she made her move before he could.
She dropped below, ducking the spastic body parts. A boot slid past her face and she reached out, snatching the toe in a firm grip. The other leg churned faster in response, so on her second lunge, she only managed to snake two fingers through a lace, which meant the vigorous kicks jerked her arm violently in her shoulder socket. She untangled her fingers with some difficulty and on the next try, got a strong grip around his second ankle.
Without another moment wasted, her body starting to tire and cramp from the extra time without replenished oxygen, she turned and shot toward the bottom, scanning through the fading light. Finally she caught a glimpse of torn metal and broken glass, and flesh and fabric within. It meant he was her only target—and only hope. Whoever had aided her escape needed to be gone soon if they weren’t already.
She quickly pulled up on her downward trajectory. One mighty tug, and the man she’d been towing slid down into her waiting arms, his arms still reaching out helplessly above him. Her legs wrapped securely around his waist. His focus immediately shifted from reaching the surface to prying her legs from him. She ignored it. Unlike her, he was weak underwater.
Air streamed rapidly from between his dark mustache and thick beard slowing to a lazy dance above their embrace. The bubbles rose like her urgency. She stoppered the release with a pinch to fasten his lips and folded her palm over them in a prompt to lock in what little breath remained.
She encircled his neck with one arm, gripping the chain exposed above the white collar there, and looked up from under lashes, locking him in her gaze. He didn’t blink, though his pupils enlarged at the shock, ensnared by the sight of his deadly manacle—a who, not a more likely what. His eyes were light blue and clear, like the water she was used to.
Hers glided down the weather-beaten face to the pale pink lips revealed by the removal of her hand, now clasped tight shut. Her head tilted, offsetting his in the exaggerated slow-motion that tamed every movement underwater. She shifted her lips and pressed more firmly until their li
ps were sealed together.
Then she inhaled what little sustenance the man had left, sucking him dry of his last few minutes of life. The oxygen trickled down into her lungs, relieving the pressure in her chest. The man jerked, tried to wrench free. Too late.
Separating from him, her lips curled up in the corners, contradicting his distress; his mouth now gaped, opening and closing like that of a beached fish. This time no bubbles sprung forth. With nothing to expel, he inhaled in turn. But there was only death in the substance entering his body. In juxtaposition to the filling of his lungs, the color of his irises leached out, flooded by the black pupils expanding from the center, a darkness that likely mirrored his sight. Slowly, his jaw stilled and all of his muscles slackened. His stare grew distant.
There could be no survivors.
With her body revitalized by a kiss of life—for her at least—she slipped around him, tipping him backwards and catching his chin in the crook of her elbow. She kicked out, towards the sunken wreckage, shoving him inside the cage she’d been in previously.
She relieved him of his treasure, feeling no remorse. Then she sat on the roof of the sunken car, pulled the necklace over her head, and watched the surface being tossed about by the storm’s winds, waiting.
Chapter Eight
Nor found Reed a hundred feet or so down the road taking out his anger on some poor hapless trees. Mother would disapprove.
Reed had given his version of the evening’s events to the officer, then disappeared out the door. Nor knew he hadn’t gone far. He pulled the truck over, slid out, and slouched against the hood, waiting for his brother to get his rage out of his system.
Bark flew as the sharp blades marred the trunks. Reed didn’t stop his assault, spinning and slashing, his weapons blurred flashes in the dark, until one vigorous swipe sunk the tip a bit too far into the wood and it refused to slide back out. Reed gave it a few experimental tugs before flipping his other blade in his palm and sending it thwacking into the soft dirt at his feet.
His brother spun and thrust a finger right at the fading bruise on Nor’s nose, hot breath coming in fast pants. Nor restrained a flinch as he’d been taught. “You–” Reed spat, his anger seeming to stifle the rest of that sentence. “You fucking idiot! You goddamn incompetent—! Do you even realize what you’ve done?” He spun, taking a few paces away, arms akimbo.
He turned abruptly and marched back, finger poking Nor in the sternum for emphasis. “We’re supposed to be going undercover here. And you— you throw it all away for some chick? Some girl whose address you magically know, by the way, but I’ll leave that. Fuck, Nor. We’re working, we’re on a mission, we have to focus. Have I taught you nothing? Has Father not done enough to prepare you? Did Mother?” The mention caught his voice. He took a step back, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Without warning he dropped down and snatched his blade from the dirt. This time when he snapped around, Nor was nose-to-blade tip and arched uncomfortably against the truck’s grill. “We don’t even know who we can fucking trust in this fucking podunk town. Your girl could be the one who killed ours.”
Allegedly killed, Nor pedantically added in his mind. He didn’t move to avoid further provocation.
“And now we’re on the goddamn police’s radar. There’s no way I’ll get the report from them now. You are going to be the one to explain that little fact to Father, I hope you know.” Reed’s arm shook with the effort of holding the weapon back. He seethed through his teeth. “And if I catch you even looking at that girl again, I’m going to have you training so hard you won’t have time to even get yourself off, let alone get it on with some townie, got it?”
It was rhetorical. However, given that everything Reed had said was true, and well known by Nor, he couldn’t help but nod, subtly, considering how precariously close he was to being impaled.
The knife disappeared and came back before Nor could even let out a full breath, making him snap his chin back in. The light from the headlights glinted off the metal. “I mean it. Even if she’s not culpable, you know Father’s rule. And you know why. You know—” He gulped. “You know what happens when civilians get involved; when we get involved with them.” Reed deflated, his next words directed at the hole in the soil, a sheath left abandoned when he’d retrieved his discarded blade. “I don’t want you to follow my path of mistakes. Trust me; it’s not worth it. For either of your sakes.”
Well if that wasn’t a slap to Nor’s conscience… He was already feeling repentant about involving the police and making them the center of attention. Now Nor was just disgusted with himself. Father forbade getting involved with civilians, and Reed agreed with first-hand, devastating experience.
Nor stepped around his brother’s slumped form and wrenched the blade free from the tree, holding it out as a peace offering. “I’m sorry… I didn’t think. It was instinct. I just…” He deflated, a scolded child who knew the evidence of the sneaked cake was plain on his face. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” was all he could think to say.
Reed just snatched the weapon, almost slicing Nor’s palm open, having run out his tirade, accepted the handle and detoured around to climb into the truck.
Nor had meant it. He was sorry, and he wouldn’t let it happen again. Not to Sirena. Because protecting the innocent was what his job entailed. Mother would want him to fight for her; she was as much a part of the Earth as any other organism in the biosphere, and a personification of all the flora and fauna who relied on the Green Team.
What Reed didn’t realize was that Nor was already following his brother’s figurative path, or pier in this case. The only difference was that he hadn’t fallen off the end yet. He was safe. And Sirena was safe, or at least alive.
Nor heaved a chagrined sigh and followed, climbing back up into the driver’s seat. They drove the rest of the way home in silence, his mute passenger reminiscent of the girl he hadn’t fully protected.
◆◆◆
The bed frame jostled as Nor flipped onto his back. He held his breath for a moment. Reed continued to snore loudly in the bunk below him. Not very vigilant; Father would be disappointed. Nor knew Reed was exhausted though. He’d disappeared into the woods to exorcise his demons with a rigorous workout when they got back. Maybe that’s where the term ‘exercise’ came from.
Nor threw a forearm over his eyes and let out a deep exhale. He still felt horrible that he’d exhumed such a sensitive subject. Yet, as he recalled seeing Rena’s eyes reflecting at him in the moonlight, his name on her pale lips, Nor felt in his gut that he’d done the right thing. Maybe that was because he was more their Mother. Reed too always agreed that people like JT didn’t deserve the honor of their lives. The wooden headboard creaked ominously beneath his grip so he crossed that arm over his eyes too. Those too entitled to treat the gift of nature, and everything else with life, with respect, endangered the rest of the fragile network. Unfortunately JT was entitled. Power meant ego and ego meant power, and power meant not having to follow the rules without justified retaliation.
Nor grabbed his phone, pulling it free from the charger. If his mind was going to keep him awake, he might as well do something useful, like get a jump on the report Nor was going to have to write, explaining why he was spending some of his Sunday not working on the mission, at the local police station no less. He sighed again and started typing.
By the time Reed stirred, tossing and turning enough to transfer his motions like an earthquake to the top bunk, Nor had just hit send. Good timing; the shaking was enough to make hitting the right letters on his small phone very difficult.
“Hey, you’re going to make me seasick,” he complained.
“Serves you right,” was the grumbled response, muffled as though Reed’s face was still shoved into a pillow. “You need to be awake anyway. We’re going to train.”
Nor face-planted his own pillow. This was Reed’s punishment for the previous night. Nor had experienced Reed’s wrath before, over some
simple brotherly trickery. And the secret smile Nor saw when Reed didn’t notice him looking indicated that really he too had found it funny when Nor switched his coffee creamer with hot sauce, maybe even a little proud of his little brother’s stealth. So, something that put his first real mission in jeopardy with the law? That meant serious payback. Nor was anticipating a lot of pain and fatigue. The hot sauce trick had rewarded Nor with extra sprints and double his normal number of sets weightlifting; what bonuses had he won himself this time?
Reed stood and stretched, before moving to the dresser to pull out some clothes. “I’m thinking some sprints on the beach first.” Called that one. “You struggled on that sand; I was able to catch up with you pretty quickly. And then some hand-to-hand combat. Going for the nerve was good. However, that won’t always be an option. We’ve worked on moves from behind before, but not when the target has a hostage.”
Nor sat up, astonished, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling as loose, black pants covered Reed’s smiley-face boxers.
“I know a few tricks I can show you when there’s an innocent in the danger zone. You don’t want to hurt them or rile up your target enough to retaliate against the hostage.” A second pair flew through the air, hitting Nor in the face before he’d reacted. “And maybe it’d be a good idea to improve the quickness of your reactions,” Reed added, wryly.
Nor pulled the pants down from his head to expose his shocked frown. “You want to simulate last night?” he said, incredulous.
He dropped over the side of the bed, bending his knees deeply on the landing to avoid making a loud thud that would wake Barb and Tom. Reed turned to face him, nodding as his head popped free from a tight black thermal. He held another out to Nor, who quickly scrambled into the pants and accepted the shirt.
